


Worship for His God

by keresWings



Series: 'Cest PWP [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome, Xeno, vantascest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 01:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keresWings/pseuds/keresWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat gets landed back on Alternia, where the Signless finds him. His Ancestor induces Stockholm Syndrome, which makes Karkat view him as a god.</p><p>Cue sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worship for His God

It's been five nights now, so far as you can tell. You had been sucked into some strange portal concocted by Strider and Lalonde, and had landed face first into the reddish Alternian mud. As shitty as this fucking place was for trolls like you, you were kind of glad to be back. And then some fucking asshole had snatched you and dragged you back to his hive. He sort of looked like you, messy hair and stubby horns and sickles, not to mention the accents on his clothes were the same bright cherry red of your blood. The adult tried to talk to you, but you refused to listen and ended up screaming obscenities at him - you know what happens to kidnapped teenagers, fuck you very much. When the big Kanaya-lookalike adult had come in, you had officially flipped off the handle and there was no way in the Furthest Ring you were leaving a forwarding address, so they locked you in this windowless room.  
  
He comes every night, sits outside the locked door and just fucking talks to you. It's infuriating, and not even in a black way. You never say anything, but horrorterrors damn you, you actually stop raging long enough to listen. He can talk, you'll give him that. He tells you he's called the Signless, and he's got bright red blood, just like you, although he doesn't know that. There weren't any redblooded lusii, so the Dolorosa took him and fled to the surface from the brooding caverns, which explains why the jadeblood looks so much like Kanaya - she must be your Maryam's ancestor. Which makes this Signless dolt yours. Your life just keeps getting better. You'd never really believed in ancestors, and now that you've met yours, of course he would be the _most_ un-Alternian piece of shit to ever exist in the universe frog's asshole. No fucking wonder he hasn't culled you yet. He's fucking sentimental. You give him about a week to live before this Alternia's Grand Highblood snaps his fucking idiot neck.

Night ten. The food that he pushes through the slit in the door has really improved. You’d say you’re grateful, but you don’t want to give the son of a bitch anything. He insists on telling you his dreams for Alternia, which you promptly inform him is horsebeast shit. He’s exclaiming in delight that you’ve finally said something before you realize you broke your resolve to stay silent. You spend the rest of his visit curled up on your cot, sulking.

Night twelve. You’ve taken to sitting by the door again as you eat and he talks. He tells you about Neophyte Redglare and how she almost caught him, and usually you’d have told him to stuff it up his nook by now, but you’ve started believing his stories even though there is no way in hell a legislacerator actually let a mutant live, but you guess they have a ~*history*~ or some shit, even though Signless is apparently in flush with his Disciple - who the bulgechafing fuck would stick around this guy, let alone follow his “teachings” and pail him on a regular basis? Whatever. You push the now empty tray out the door and he takes it and leaves. Now that you think about it, you’re lucky nothing they’ve given you has been drugged. You’re grateful for that.

Night fifteen. Signless tells you he wants you to come out, but he doesn’t want you hurting his mother. You’ve never heard of a mother outside of the humans being all unproductively nostalgic which you never ever do when you miss Crabdad, not at all, nope, not you. You take a deep breath and actually tell a story of your own, tell the crazy Signless dude about the game, how you were the leader of the red team, and your flush/pitch/pale/ash flipping for Terezi. He's a good listener, you give him credit for that, and it's nice how he seems to just _get_ you, how sometimes you transcend the quadrant system despite your best efforts.

Night eighteen, and he finally opens the door. You stand face to face with a troll who looks scarily like you, except taller and with filled in eyes. You mentally wince at the bright, unnatural red nestled in yellow sclera, but he's nice enough, smiling wide and inviting. You're not sure what it is that makes you step forward and hug him, but you do, and it's nice to feel warm, strong arms encircle you back. He leads out to the nutriblock and you meet the Kanaya adult again. She introduces herself as “the Dolorosa, although Signless here calls me Mother, and I'd be delighted if you wanted to as well, darling.” No harm in it, you suppose, indulging these weird-ass fuckers, so you say thanks, Mom, when she brings you and Signless hot bowls of grub soup, and the way she ruffles your hair is nice. Reminds you a bit of Crabdad, only way more intimate. You decide you like it.

You scarf down the almost-too-hot soup in record time, and end up waiting impatiently for Signless to finish. When he does, you're standing up from your chair in an instant. You're impatient to go somewhere after being cooped up for two and a half weeks, and Signless laughs and obliges you, giving you a tour of the hive. It's small, but homely. He shows you the lounge block, the ablution block, and points out his mother's respite block before taking you to his.

You're not surprised to end up here. You know the stories of adults who take in pre-ascension kids, and you know exactly what's expected of you. But for some reason, you don't think you'll mind. He's been really nice so far, so maybe that'll continue into pailing. You take a deep breath and pull off your shirt.

Signless grabs your wrists gently yet firmly. “You don't have to, you know,” he says, and you scoff.

“Of course I do. But, I sorta,” you look away, “want to.”

A small, pregnant pause. “Well then.” You can hear the smile in his voice and suddenly his hands are on the waistband of your jeans, expertly undoing the button and pulling down the fly. You never thought you'd experience someone who felt warm to you – even the humans had cooler chroma than you did – but his finger certainly is warm when it pushes up into your nook, making you squeak. He chuckles, chest rumbling against your cheek (how did you end up pressed against him?) as he slowly pumps in and out of you, pulling painfully pathetic noises out of you every time he presses against a ridge inside your nook. Your bulge is slowly unsheathing and it wraps around his wrist, spreading sticky slick genetic material across his skin. Oddly enough, he doesn't seem to mind. You figured an adult wouldn't care if you get off.

But goddamn do you get off. With just one finger in your nook – aahhhhh fuckgoddamnit make that two – and claws lightly tracing random patterns across the sensitive skin of your bulge you shudder in his grip and come in your pants like a wriggler, panting and keening with your head rolled back and seeing white, you don't _care_ that your throat is exposed to him to tear out if he feels like it.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually your bones are solid enough again that you can stand on your own. You look up at him with wide eyes.

“Holy fucking hell,” you essay, still breathing hard. He laughs quietly.

“I wouldn't mind a little help,” he says, rubbing a palm over where his leggings bulge outwards at the crotch, the front darkened with wet genetic material. Hungrily, you get down on your knees and press an open mouthed kiss to the dark patch, sucking. The genetic material that coats your teeth and tongue is tangy, but not in a bad way. Sort of like those cherry red candies Terezi is constantly snacking on in the laboratory and making everyone annoyed with her obscene smacking sounds and loud declarations of how delicious they are. His hand lands in between your horns and his claws scritch lightly at your scalp and you purr happily at his approval.

It doesn't take long before he's impatient and pulls down the leggings. Usually you'd have a snide comment for someone who wears their leggings pulled up to their armpits but somehow the Signless makes it look majestic. His bulge is dark and glistening, twisting lazily in front of your face, and holy shit is it supposed to be that thick? Are you going to be that thick after your adult molt? Either way, you lean forward and slip the tip of his bulge into your mouth, feeling the weight of it on your tongue. You lap at it, sucking, before pulling off and and mouth kisses down the underside, not caring when it leaves large streaks of sticky material across your cheek and forehead and into your hair. He's been so kind and patient with your sorry ass (you want to slap Past Karkat for being such a crotchrot idiot and not realizing what a good thing it was that Signless found you) and you could fucking worship him for that. So you do, pressing your nose against his bulge and forcing your tongue into his nook, worshipping him. The way his hand fists in your hair and tugs, encouraging, tells you that your worship has been received and your new god approves. You keep at it until the underside of your tongue is sore and you pull back, sucking his bulge back into the heat of your mouth, being careful to wrap your lips around your fangs so he gets all pleasure and no pain. He sighs, your only sign that it feels good.

You press yourself down on him, taking a moment to figure out how to open your throat to take even more of him inside of you. You wonder for a moment what it'd be like to have such a thick bulge in your nook, and even though you just got off, you feel you nook start to drip again at the thought. Signless carefully pushes you the rest of the way on his bulge, your lips stretched uncomfortably around his base and you swallow reflexively, again and again as the intrusion of his bulge doesn't go away. You can feel him twitching and curling against the back of your protein chute and you moan like a fucking concupiscent porn star, sending vibrations through the slick appendage in your mouth. Signless pets your hair and murmurs encouragements, and you glow under the praise. You dare to try and bob your head on his bulge, and although you don't do it nearly well enough to be worthy of the god you're sucking off, he fists his fingers in your hair painfully tight and comes, pouring genetic material down your throat and covering your chest and legs with what comes out of his nook. You keep your nose pressed against his pelvis as his bulge spasms inside your protein chute, nearly choking on the amount of genetic material he releases, but you don't really care because it tastes so good and you would happily be on your knees all night pleasing him in thanks for saving you when you were thrown back onto Alternia.

You feel him start to resheath and carefully pull yourself off his bulge, working your jaw as it protests closing after being stretched so wide for so long. You collapse at your god's feet, covered in his genetic material combined with traces of your own, the same bright colour, and he's kneeling beside you, petting your hair and telling you how well you've done, how much you've pleased him. You smile hazily and close your eyes, not minding that you're sticky and uncomfortable, not minding that you're half naked and vulnerable.

Your thoughts of Strider and Lalonde rescuing you almost seem like daymares now.


End file.
